Like This
by piperholmes
Summary: A missing moment in the season finale, set just after leaving the hospital. Rollisi deal with the loss.


**Like This**

 **By: piperholmes**

 **A/N: a missing moment in the season finale that falls between leaving the hospital and the funeral.**

 **Unbeta'd**

* * *

He followed her into her apartment, the silence from the trip home lingering. They hadn't really known what else to do. There was no point to stay at the hospital. He supposed he could have gone with a few others to a bar, gotten shitfaced, drink away the night, the loss, but he knew she had needed to get home and he just wanted to be where she was.

So he'd followed her out, neither saying a word, just staying near each other.

The sitter left quietly, her words of condolence only adding to the fog that surrounded them, but he nodded his thanks as Amanda walked her out, listening to the details of Jesse's day.

He hadn't realized how late it was until they'd entered the dimmed apartment, an effort to help Jesse settle down for sleep, and he took a moment to look out of the window over the darkened city, tossing his suit coat aside. Had it really only been since this morning…

" _You know what? I'll go."_

" _You're packing up, it's you're last day."_

" _Guy like that sees a sergeant and a lieutenant, he'll listen."_

Carisi closed his eyes against the memory, trying to reconcile the innocence of that moment with the terror it had wrought.

His eyes opened slowly as he felt a hand on his arm.

"Hey," she whispered, the warmth of her touch seeping through his sleeve. "How ya doin'?"

He didn't know.

He just shrugged, grateful for the darkness of the apartment.

That's how he felt. Dark.

Sonny was a talker, he knew it, she'd teased him about it, but that was how it was in his family.

This time he just didn't have the words.

Everything gathered in his chest, pressing down, making it hard to breath.

He watched her hand slide down his arm to where the medical tape held a cotton ball against his skin, evidence of his useless attempt to help.

"It's probably been on long enough."

He nodded, straightening his arm out for her.

"I'll be quick," she promised, and before he could respond she'd pulled it away from his arm in one quick jerk.

A blink was the only outside acknowledgment to the sting of the adhesive tearing away.

Her fingers were soft against his reddening skin, stroking the tender flesh gently. Sonny couldn't help the shiver that moved through him as his skin erupted in goosebumps.

She leaned forward, pressing her lips against the tiny red mark that had been left by the needle piercing his skin and Sonny's breath caught.

The kiss was light, delicate, soothing, everything he needed to feel, and he wanted more.

He free hand came up to cup her head, his fingers sliding into the cool silk of her blond hair, her ear pressing into his palm as he guided her closer, lifting her face to look at him, blue eyes meeting blue eyes.

Mutual loss, need, desire collided.

Her body pressed closer to him, his arm falling from her grip to slide around her waist. He could feel the press of her stomach against him with each breath she took, but despite how closely they stood, his hold was lazy, allowing for her the freedom to pull away.

He couldn't tell how long they stood there in the dark silence—time had long since become a mockery of reality—but he gazed searched her face, finding strength, comfort, heartache.

His thumb stroked away the tear that had slipped from the corner of her eye, and he bent down enough to allow his lips to press where the tear had fallen, the salty taste of sadness against his tongue before he realized it wasn't just her tears, but his own.

Her grip on him tightened, his cheek now pressed against hers. He could smell her shampoo, she surrounded him, invaded him, she was all he could think.

"Amanda…" the plea tore from him.

She shifted, rising up on her toes, her mouth meeting his, gently at first, then closing her eyes, she tilted her chin upward, meeting his lips in a tender, soft caress. They lingered over the contact, never truly separating. Sonny moved, unthinkingly, tilting her head further, deepening contact. He felt her sigh, knew she was enjoying the sensations, and welcomed the renewed touch of his lips against hers. Gradually he increase the pressure, further opening her lips, his tongue met hers, at first fleeting and light. Her own tongue hesitantly moved, darting out to meet his and she felt a thrill as a shiver of pleasure traveled through him, and the dam gave way. The kiss became frantic, desperate, her fingers working the buttons of his vest, shoving it down his arms as he walked her backwards until the back of her legs hit the couch.

He lowered her, refusing to break contact, following her down, reclining her back as he settled between her thighs. One hand continued to cradler her head as his other slipped under her shirt, his fingers painting her skin. He felt her tug at his shirt, felt the fabric loosen as she carefully unbuttoned it. He grounded against her and her mouth wrenched from his, a moan of pleasure erupting from her.

He needed more, his mouth moving down her jaw, her neck and soon he had her shirt off, pressing kisses against her collarbone, then along the top of her bra. Her fingers dug into his hair, sending the strands in wild directions before falling to his now naked shoulders as she moved against him.

And then

His kisses slowed, her grip slacking as they both stilled. In a moment of surrender his forehead came to rest against hers, both gasping for air, their breath mingling, laying perfectly still even as he pressed tightly, intimately against her.

"Not…not like this," he panted, surprised he could feel her heart beating against his chest, racing as quickly as his.

"Not like this," he repeated softly, kindly.

His eyes again met hers as he stroked back her hair, willing her to understand. He wanted this. He wanted her, but not with the pain, not with this sadness and loss. Whatever was happening between them, and something was happening, he didn't want to lose it because they were both so desperate to heal.

There had been enough loss today.

He saw the lust fade from her eyes, and found understanding. Her hands moved to cup his face, her fingers moving against his cheeks.

It should have been awkward.

It should have been a lot of things.

A whimper sounded from the monitor, and both turned slightly, watching and listening, but it seemed Jesse had cried out in her sleep as silence once again settled.

"Stay," Amanda said, shifting beneath him, allowing his space next to her. "Just stay here with me, like this."

His long frame slide down to lay next to her, her head under his chin, their legs entwined as they held tightly in the tiny space. Shoes were kicked off as Sonny reached up, grabbing the blanket off the back of the couch, draping it over them.

Exhaustion and grief finally took hold as they cocooned themselves together.

"I'm…." she took a breath. "I'm glad you're here."

He knew, he didn't want to be alone any more than she did, but it went deeper than that.

He pressed his lips against her forehead, grateful to feel something more than sorrow.

"Me too."

 **Thanks for reading!**


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